


Smoke

by tamethespaghetti



Category: Cyborg 009
Genre: M/M, Weed, good wholesome talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamethespaghetti/pseuds/tamethespaghetti
Summary: While enjoying some much deserved down time, Chang and GB talk. And hot-box the Dolphin.
Relationships: 007 | Great Britain/006 | Chang Changku
Kudos: 5





	Smoke

"Oh man this is the good stuff," GB sighed, letting out a plume of sweet-smelling smoke into the bridge of the Dolphin.

From across the bridge Chang nodded in agreement as he took a hit of his own, “I had my doubts, but you were right. This is exactly what we needed.”

“You sound surprised! Am I ever wrong?”

“Yes. All the time,” Chang replied instantly and GB just giggled in response. When his giggles subsided the Dolphin fell back into silence, the two men periodically taking hits as they lookout out the ship’s grand front windows at the deep blue expanse around them.

At some point in time Chang finished his joint, so he took out another one and lit it with a small burst of fire. GB watched Chang’s checks puff out as he blew the small wisp of flames and thought it was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He felt like he should tell Chang that so he did, and the other cyborg just smiled in response. They were both silent again.

GB gradually felt the control over his cellular structure start to slip away. He could feel the tension of the bonds between his own cells melt away as each cell was allowed to move freely within the confines of his malleable body. He felt fluid, languid, and free. His body seemed to take the shape of its container, or more specifically the chair he was sitting in. Its fabric and metal shape acted as a mould for his fluid form and he became acutely aware and numbly indifferent to each and ever dip and curve of the chair as his cells seemed to filter into these spaces. And then, after his cells had filled the mould of the chair he began to felt fuzzy along the borders of his being, as if the line between him and the universe was becoming blurred.

“Hey Chang?” he asked into the expanse that he was becoming a part of.

“Yes?”

“Am I melting?”

A long pause, “No, you just look very very relaxed.”

“Hmm,” GB replied thoughtfully. Either he’d forgotten what feeling relaxed felt like or he’d had too much weed. He raised the joint to his mouth and inhaled, deciding it must be the former. Or that it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right? Expect for the smoke in his lungs and the man sitting across from him.

“I’m glad they didn’t modify you enough so that you wouldn’t feel the effects of the weed.”

Chang chuckled lightly, “because you want me to be your smoking buddy?”

“No. Well, okay, yes, especially since Albert like having fun. But also because I want you to be able to relax. You’ve been looking stressed recently,” GB paused to take another hit and when he was ready to start speaking again he found that he’d forgotten what he was talking about. He frowned, it had been important hasn’t it? But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

“You’re right,” Chang said, his unnaturally morose tone cutting through GB’s confused haze like a knife, “I’m stressed. We’re all stressed. It’s not healthy to be fighting this much,” he paused and GB looked over at his friend, to see him lift the joint to his mouth and then put it back down without taking another hit. The ocean behind Chang sparkled in the low light and moved in lazy, hypnotic patterns that he could have watched for hours, but right now GB found himself more captivated with his fellow cyborg. Chang sat upon his chair, body relaxed and calm but his voice was tight with tension, “and for most of the fighting I just feel useless. Like I can’t pull my own weight, like I can’t do enough for the rest of you all. I was given the ability to breath fire for gods sake, yet nothing will stop me for being me, and Chang Changku just wasn’t built for fighting.”

“We do the best we can,” GB replied but it didn’t seem to make his friend feel any better. He tried to think of what best to say, but the cannabinoids in his system were not conducive to such a task. Eventually, after what felt like eons, he continued, “You don’t have to be as naturally good at fighting as Joe, or as ruthless and trigger-happy as Albert, or as strong as Geronimo. You just try, do your best and do the most you can. I’m not a fighter either. I’m a joke, a drunk, constantly overdramatic, and I can never read the mood so I’m never serious. And what’s my greatest use? Getting insanely good deals on weed? But just like you, I try. I do my best. It’s all I can do. But it’s enough. And it’s worth it.”

GB pulled himself up so he was sitting up a bit straighter. He rolled his shrinking joint in between his thumb and forefinger, “If you weren’t here I don’t know what I would do. I wouldn’t, well-” GB stopped talking to try and piece together what he was really trying to say. Somewhere, back in the depths of his brain there were a cluster of nerves begging him to shut up, but in the moment and with all this weed, nothing was stopping him now, “some days you’re the reason I keep fighting.”

“Some days?” Chang echoed. GB knew his friend well, and even inebriated he could pick out the sincerity underneath the teasing tone of his voice.

“Okay, maybe most days. Like, half of the days. Or maybe 70/40, does that make sense? Does my math check out? Ho boy, I think I need to slow down.”

Chang chuckled, blessing GB’s ears with the most beautiful sound on earth.

More time passed and they had both long forgotten how many joints they’d gone through. They would break the comfortable silence every once in a while with chatter about nothing important. Sometimes GB would break out into soliloquy but stop halfway through when he’d forget what play he was quoting or what character he had been speaking as. Chang would laugh and GB’s heart would swell with joy. He was certain the weed alone couldn’t make him feel this blissful and he blessed Chang’s soul for being here with him right then.

"You're not too bad yourself." Chang said at some point in time, not relevant to anything they had just been talking about.

"Ya think?"

"Yeah. You never fail to make me laugh. I know what we’re doing is serious business, but you effortlessly lighten the mood and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know,” he took another hit. When he blew out GB watched the spiral of smoke disperse and join the layer of smoke above them. Wow, since when did the bridge get so smoky?  
“Although,” Chang continued, his beautiful voice pulling GB’s attention away from the smoke, “since we’re being truthful, I fell like I should tell you this. Out of all the things and people you could change into, your natural face is my favourite."

GB felt a big dopey grin spread over his face, “Ah Chang you say the nicest things. I just wanna come over there and give you a nice big kiss."

"You should," Chang replied and the blush on his checks nearly stopped GB’s heart. God since when was this man so impossibly cute?

"I guess I will," GB said and pushed himself off of his seat. At least, he tried too. His body would not listen to anything his mind was telling it to do, so he flailed pitifully for a couple seconds before giving up, "I can't get up."

Chang laughed at that for a long time, his loud boisterous laugher filling out the bridge of the Dolphin and the spaces between GB’s cells so perfectly. GB joined in.

“One day,” Chang started once their giggles had subsided, “when we have sufficiently saved the world we’re going to be able to live a great life and it will all have been worth it.”

“Together,” GB added lazily.

“Hm?”

“Together. We’re going to like a great life together.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Chang replied, a blissed out smile on his lips as he turned back to the window and watched the crystalline water flow past them.

GB wasn’t sure if they talked any more after that or if they stayed quiet. He couldn’t be too sure if he just thought about words and concepts or if he actually ended up saying them out loud. Nothing really mattered except for the weed and this perfect man just across the bridge from him. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

They were found the next morning, blissfully asleep, by Dr. Gilmore, who proceeded to give them a lengthy and angry lecture about not hot-boxing the bridge of the Dolphin ever again. But despite the tongue-lashing and the confiscation of the remaining weed (there wasn’t a lot left so GB didn’t fret), it was well worth it. On the walk back to the house GB leaned over and pressed his lips against the Chang’s cheek. His friend looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in question.

“To make up for the one I couldn’t give you last night,” he explained with a wink. The ensuing laugh and light blush that dusted Chang’s cheeks made GB feel like the luckiest man in the world. It was so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I wrote this years ago and figured, hey, let post this now I guess. 
> 
> Full disclosure, the only things I know about weed is what I've learnt about in pharmacology or neuroscience classes, so if it's been portrayed poorly, whoops I'm sorry!
> 
> Hope y'all liked it and I hope to be posting more Cyborg 009 content in the near future.


End file.
